


Love Indeed Is Light From Heaven

by prettybirdy979



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempted Murder, Aziraphale and Crowley in Love (Good Omens), BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), BAMF Crowley (Good Omens), Gen, Heaven is Terrible (Good Omens), Hellfire, Holy Water, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Kidnapping, M/M, No beta we fall like Crowley, Not Beta Read, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Protective Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:54:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21952516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettybirdy979/pseuds/prettybirdy979
Summary: Being dragged from their home to a field somewhere on Earth by their former bosses isn't exactly the best wedding gift Aziraphale and Crowley could hope for (though they may have neglected the anouncement so the timing could be coincidence) but they are together, so maybe they can talk their way out-Then Heaven gets out the Holy Water and Hell the Hellfire. Now Aziraphale's a little more concerned.Oh Lord,pleaselethimlive.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 450





	Love Indeed Is Light From Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> First posted on tumblr [here](https://prettybirdy979.tumblr.com/post/189844980298/fic-aziraphalecrowley-are-you-okay), this has been in my head for a little bit. Mostly the end scenes... Time it took me to write it has made it a wildly inappropriate Christmas present. So. Oops.
> 
> Hope you enjoy anyway, and have a good holiday period!
> 
> Full quote for the title: "Yes, love indeed is light from heaven; A spark of that immortal fire with angels shared, by Allah given to lift from earth our low desire." -Lord Byron

Aziraphale doesn't resist as Sandalphon pulls him along, stumbling with each blind step across the uneven ground. Behind him Uriel has a vice like grip on his arms, binding his hands as effectively as rope could. Not that they've skimped on the rope either; Aziraphale feels vaguely like a chicken trussed up for Christmas dinner with all the rope they must have put around his hands before he came to. He’s gagged too, the feel of it reminding him of the one he saw on Crowley when they’d last had to face Heaven and Hell.

Crowley. Where’s Crowley?

They’d been at the bookshop for one last look before the move when Heaven and Hell had ambushed them. Aziraphale tries to think but all he can remember is his heart pounding when the wards activated then broke in one go, the feel of Crowley’s hand being tugged from his own and choking smoke that filled his lungs and nose as the world faded to black…

Shaking his head, he casts out his senses, ignoring the pain that comes a moment later when Sandalphon digs his fingers in, ripping Aziraphale's coat and breaking his skin. That doesn’t matter, he needs to know where he is. He needs to know where _Crowley_ is. He needs to find out so they can mount their daring escape and be _free_ and _together_ like they swore to God and another they would be for all eternity just days ago- 

_No. Don’t go there Aziraphale. Small steps. First, you have to know locate when on Earth you are._

Heaven, after all, doesn't have uneven ground. That would be-

Apple. Warmth, specifically the kind you get from a familiar fire lit safely in your home. A taste of venom. Motor oil, just enough to sit on your tongue.

CROWLEY!

The hint of Crowley's presence, something Aziraphale last felt moments before he was knocked out, is enough to have him start to struggle again. Crowley is out there - so close! - and all Aziraphale has to do is get free-

'Stop struggling,' Uriel hisses. 'You'll be seeing your _boyfriend_ shortly.'

Aziraphale's blood runs cold at the glee in her voice. He stops his struggles as they pull him around a corner. 

A moment later Uriel lets go of him and Sandalphon uses his momentum to throw him to the ground. Aziraphale manages to land on his knees instead of his face, but it's a close one. Seconds later he hears another body fall to the ground to his left, where Crowley's presence is stronger.

'Well this is a pleasing sight,' Gabriel says, and a rough hand rips the blindfold from Aziraphale's face. He hisses at the light, blinking as he looks around. They’ve dragged him to a plush green field, surrounded by stands that look like they’ve been stolen right from the Colosseum. _Probably have_ , he thinks casting out his senses and feeling the tingle of miracles.

And, as he turns his head eagerly to the left, the presence of _Crowley_ sitting beside him.

Crowley's wide eyes meet his, a streak of blood down the side of his face and wearing a gag that looks like it could be a twin to the one Aziraphale is still being forced to wear. Aziraphale's hands twitch with the desire to reach for Crowley, to run healing fingers along the still sluggishly bleeding cut. He tries to reach out anyway and bites down a hiss as the ropes pull at his bruising wrists.

_Don’t angel_ , Crowley’s eyes seem to whisper. _Not for me._

_Have faith_ , Aziraphale wants to scream but settles for trying to communicate it with his eyes. _There’s nothing we can’t survive now we’re together_. 

The way Crowley’s eyes brighten, widening with a smile covered by the gag, makes Aziraphale think he might have gotten the message.

Behind Crowley, Hastur catches Aziraphale looking. He sneers then backhands Crowley with enough force to send him falling into the dust. Hastur doesn’t watch him fall, instead keeping his eyes on Aziraphale and smirking with a glee that Aziraphale can sense from here.

Aziraphale is on his feet before he even thinks, biting into his gag instead of letting lose the roar caught in his throat. He actually makes it halfway to Hastur before Sandalphon grabs him and drags him back to his place. The throw to the ground this time is twice as hard and Aziraphale can’t stop himself from hitting the dirt with a muffled groan. He can hear muffled noises from Crowley and looks up to see the concern shining in his love’s bright yellow eyes.

‘You ready?’ Gabriel says and Aziraphale drags his eyes away from Crowley to see him speaking to Beelzebub. Beelzebub just nods at Dagon as they look down at Crowley with disgust.

‘Angels of the Host!’ Gabriel _Calls_ and in the next blink of an eye, ten million angels exist on the upper levels of the stands that surround the field they’ve dumped Crowley and Aziraphale in.

‘Demons of Hell!’ Dagon _Cries_ at the same moment, and the lower levels of the stands fill with ten million demons.

Aziraphale can’t make out a single face in the hordes around him, but there is a general sense of disgust and a taste of fear in the air. Beside him, Crowley hisses as he struggles to his knees and Aziraphale follows suit. Being on his knees before all the angels and demons of the world scrapes at something deep inside himself, but it’s better than lying on the ground.

‘Angels of the Host!’ Gabriel repeats.

‘Demons of Hell!’ Beelzebub says, managing to sound a little emotive as they say it.

‘We bring before you a traitor and the thing he allowed to befoul him!’ Aziraphale doesn’t swallow down his hum of protest at this, the noises he makes drowned out by the angry muttering of the angels in the crowd but still _made_. He spent far too many years denying Crowley to let even a single slight to him stand now.

‘We bring before you a traitor,’ Beelzebub says in a tone that implies they were going to say this first but decided it was smarter not to, ‘and the angel he _failed_ to corrupt.’

This gets the demons roaring in outrage even as Aziraphale turns to see the look of denial in Crowley’s eyes. He projects all the love he can at Crowley in his stare, something warm spreading through him when it is reflected back at him.

Gabriel moves now, gesturing behind himself. A moment later Sandalphon - no _Dagon_ hauls Aziraphale to his feet, ripping away the gag as he does. He glances over his shoulder to see Sandalphon pulling Crowley to his feet, the way Crowley’s moving making it clear he’s attempting to be dead weight.

As if he weighs enough to do it with any measure of success. Aziraphale can’t help the soft smile creeping across his f-

SLAP!

Aziraphale cries out as his face _stings_. Hastur stands in front of him, eyes on Crowley this time as he raises his hand for another slap.

Gabriel catches it. ‘Not yet,’ he whispers and pushes the demon away from Aziraphale. He turns slightly to look Aziraphale dead in the eyes. ‘If he Falls rather than face his Justice, by all means.’

Oh no.

Gabriel turns back to the crowd of angels and demons, who have been silent this entire time. ‘We all know that just ten short years ago the Great Plan finally came to fruition! We were to be given our moment to-’

‘Destroy our eternal enemy!’ Dagon cries and the demons cheer.

‘-eliminate evil from all planes of existence!’ Gabriel announces, the only sign he noticed the interruption the way his shoulders twitch. The angels cheer, though Aziraphale notes they’re not quite as loud as the demons. Hatred is a vicious motivator after all and what the angels (supposedly) lack in hatred, Aziraphale has never been convinced they make up for with Love.

Pity that.

‘But our day of triumph,’ Gabriel says and looks to Beelzebub.

‘Was _ruined_ ,’ they continue. They _continue_.

Oh _fuck_. 

‘By these traitors!’ Gabriel and Beelzebub say in unison, the type of unison you can only get with at least a few moments of practice. Practice implying _collaboration_ and _planning_. 

Something drops in Aziraphale's soul, turning into a sinking feeling in his stomach. This might be a worse situation to be in than previously thought. 

Aziraphale hears Crowley hiss and turns to look at him. Crowley’s looking already, eyes wide with fear. Aziraphale can feel his heart pounding uselessly, his own eyes wide and the urge to babble clawing at his throat.

‘Together,’ Gabriel says and waves a hand. Hastur grabs Aziraphale’s left arm in a vice like grip and, with Dagon, drags him forward. Sandalphon manages the same with Crowley by himself, despite the fact Aziraphale can see Crowley literally digging in his heels.

‘Together,’ Gabriel repeats as Aziraphale is hauled up beside him, ‘these two led the Antichrist astray, and tempted him from his path in the name of _preventing_ the end of days!’

Crowley starts to laugh.

_Loudly_.

‘Crowley!’ Aziraphale hisses, wishing he had his hands free to wave. Crowley, of course, ignores him and laughs _harder_ and well… a smile starts to creep up Aziraphale’s face as something in him breaks.

He swallows down a laugh too. Crowley meanwhile, looks like he’s about to fall over despite Sandalphon’s tight grip on him. Everyone, including Gabriel, turns to look at him.

Gabriel blinks, mouth open as Crowley continues to cackle. The look reminds Aziraphale of a goldfish and he has to start biting at his lip to stop himself joining in. There’s a brightness in the air, despite the visible displeasure from Gabriel and Aziraphale can feel the lightness slipping into his gut and making it so much harder to swallow the laughter dancing in his throat.

'Why are you _laughing_?' Gabriel roars, marching up to Crowley. 

Crowley stares him down. 'You honestly think,' he says between bouts of laughter, 'that Aziraphale and I can make Adam do _anything_?' He shakes his head. 'Only thing we did was moral support Gabe. Kid was already halfway to stopping Armageddon with his friends before we rocked up.'

'So much lip from a _demon,_ ' Gabriel says then waves his hand.

Sandalphon punches Crowley, a solid blow to his stomach that has Crowley trying to bend over but failing to as Sandalphon drags him upright.

The joy is suckes out of the air as Crowley hisses in pain. Aziraphale cries out, a wordless noise of protest that has Hastur digging in his claws and Dagon tightening her grip on him. Around them, the crowd roars - and something drops in Aziraphale’s stomach when he realises it is a roar of triumph that is coming from both sides.

‘Now, where were we?’ Gabriel says with a smirk and gestures at Sandalphon. Beezlebub mirrors the gesture at the demons holding Aziraphale, and as if coordinated they all drag Aziraphale and Crowley so they are beside Gabriel and Beezlebub.

Then Hastur _kicks_ Aziraphale in the back of his knee and he cannot swallow the cry of pain as his knees buckle, a noise echoed by Crowley a moment later. A second kick has him falling to the ground, so he is kneeling. On the other side of Gabriel and Beelzebub Crowley is kneeling too, teeth gritted in pain and Aziraphale longs to soothe his aches.

‘These _traitors_ ,’ Beelzebub says, and the angels and demons roar. ‘These traitors,’ another roar from the crowd but they keep going, ‘then conspired _together_ to escape their punishment!’

‘They defiled themselves!’ Gabriel steps forward, hands held up to Heaven as he walks towards the crowd. ‘Shared their corporations with their _enemy_ in order to circumvent Justice!’

The crowd screams and Aziraphale almost doubles over as their disgust and rage hits him like a wave. Only a jerk of his arm by Dagon keeps him upright as Crowley _screams_.

‘Aziraphale! Are you okay?’

‘I’m okay,’ Aziraphale says to Crowley, managing to lift his head. ‘I’m okay.’

‘But now,’ Beelzebub says with a tone that makes it clear they can hear Aziraphale speaking and are ignoring him because they have something more important to say. ‘Now, we _know_ how they escaped us. And they will be _punished_!’

The crowd roars again, another wave of awful emotions that make the air so thick that Aziraphale feels his throat tightening as he struggles to breathe. He pushes past it, forcing himself to focus on the memories of a thousand fires and ash filled skies over all of human history that were far harder to breathe through than this. London was worse to breathe through than this, no more than a century or so ago.

_‘Angel?_ ’ Crowley’s voice is a whisper, one that miraculously carries to Aziraphale despite the roars of the crowd which seem to be building off another.

_‘I’m okay,’_ Aziraphale whispers back, a miracle carrying his voice as easily as Crowley’s did.

That gets an eye roll from the demon. _‘I love you,_ ’ he says after a long moment, the miracle he sends over bringing the warmth of his love to Aziraphale with his voice.

And Aziraphale can’t help himself. _‘I know,’_ he sends back, remembering the movies Crowley had forced him to watch just days ago. That gets another eye roll from Crowley; but this one is more a ‘oh you _bastard_ ,’ eye roll this time. 

‘Behold!’ Gabriel cries and Aziraphale’s attention snaps to him. ‘The holiest of Holy Waters!’

Michael snaps her fingers and a bathtub appears in front of Crowley, filled with water so Holy Aziraphale can taste it from here. Crowley groans and tries to step back; a sensible reaction for a demon so close to something so Holy.

But Sandalphon doesn’t move and Crowley only manages to move his feet in place. The crowd cheers.

‘Behold!” Beelzebub says and Dagon snaps her fingers. Fire bursts into life before Aziraphale and the smoke instantly cogs his lungs as the Hellish feeling turns every drop of his corporation’s blood to ice. He takes a half step back, then raises his head and steels his shoulders. 

No. He will not shrink back from this.

‘Hellfire,’ Beelzebub says as they turn to stare at Aziraphale. ‘From the deepest, darkest pit. Even burns some demons, if they’re not Damned enough.’

‘And now,’ Gabriel continues, also turning to look at Aziraphale, ‘you _will_ face your punishment as _yourself_.’

‘No!’ Crowley yells. ‘Don’t you dare! He’s the best of you, don’t _do_ this to him!’ He takes a step forward, actually getting one arm out of Sandalphon’s grip before the Archangel uses his grip on the other arm to drag Crowley back and to his knees in an abrupt movement that has Crowley crying out. 

‘Crowley!’ Aziraphale tries to move forward but Hastur and Dagon tighten their grips with the sound of tearing fabric. Aziraphale feels pin pricks of pain with the sound but ignores it, his focus on getting to Crowley so overpowering that it barely registers.

‘Dear Lord, save us from their dramatics!’ Gabriel says with a sigh. ‘Throw him into the fire for Heaven’s sake.’

Hastur and Dagon start to move forward as Aziraphale digs in his heels, each step only making the ice in his veins worse as the heat of the Hellfire starts to burn his skin. But the two demons combined are stronger than him, if only just, so inch by inch, Aziraphale gets closer to the fire. 

'I love you!' Aziraphale screams when he is but inches from the flames. 'Crowley, I love you!'

'Angel I love you too!' Aziraphale looks back to see the tears running down Crowley’s face. ‘Lord, I love him, _please_ save him!’

_No_ , thinks Aziraphale as he turns away unable to watch Crowley watch him die. _Save_ him _. He’s always been the better of the two of us_. 

Then there is no more time to think. 

Aziraphale is dragged into the flames.

It _burns_.

A part of him wonders why he is surprised. Surely he should have expected burning? But it… it hurts so much, a thousand pricks a thousand times in each second and all he can think about is the pain, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts and pain an-

And apples.

...What?

The scent of apples fills his nose, so familiar that Aziraphale closes his eyes to focus on it better. There! It’s… it’s apples, the promise of health and knowledge and _choice._ Behind it a taste of venom, something sharp to remind you that the creature you face has teeth. The barest hint of motor oil, sitting on Aziraphale’s tongue as a hundred years of love, if not careful maintenance, rubs off on the being who cared enough to give a car a personality.

But wait… no. He’s too warm, this isn’t right. Crowley isn’t this pain, this burning sensation that even faded as it is now is cutting through to the depth of Aziraphale’s soul. He’s _warmth_ , familiar and well loved. Home. Sometimes a little much but all fires can be; you just have to change what way you’re facing so you warm the other side instead.

Warmth. Crowley. 

Crowley would _never_ hurt him.

Aziraphale breathes in the fire surrounding him and focuses on this absolute certainty. This is Crowley surrounding him, everything he is holding Aziraphale tight. And there is no situation on this or any other world where Crowley would hurt Aziraphale.

So Aziraphale must not be hurt.

The burning sensation pricks at him one last time, like the sun on days when you know you are going to end up sunburnt, but then disappears, leaving only the glowing warmth of Crowley’s home fire.

Aziraphale slowly opens his eyes and looks around, a small part of him noting how quiet the crowd is. 

He turns around just as Sandalphon, his mouth wide open, throws Crowley into the bathtub.

‘No!’ Aziraphale holds out his hand as if to stop him, a useless gesture as the Holy Water begins to fizzle. The gesture becomes a lot less useless when the fire he’s standing in follows the movement of his hand. Sandalphon stumbles back, only just getting out of range of the blast of Hellfire as Aziraphale stares at the bathtub in shock.

Crowley breaches the water’s surface, sputtering as the fizzling dies out. He blinks with wide eyes, turning his hands over and over again in front of his face.

Then his head snaps up and he meets Aziraphale’s eyes. ‘Angel,’ he says the relief in his tone so strong Aziraphale can taste it. 

Aziraphale just stares, content to take in his love sitting comfortably in a bathtub of Holy Water. They really are _free_.

Their own side.

‘Another trick? Really Aziraphale?’ Gabriel says, snapping Aziraphale out of his content daze. But he’s not addressing Aziraphale as he speaks, no. 

Gabriel is looking at _Crowley_.

Before Aziraphale can even stutter anything, Gabriel snaps his fingers and a bucket of water appears in his hands. Hastur screeches as he and Dagon frantically scramble away from Aziraphale who just stares at the Holy Water Gabriel’s holding.

‘Now Gabriel-’

Gabriel throws the bucket of water over him, quenching the Hellfire with a hiss of steam.

Aziraphale wrinkles his face as the cold water - because of course it’s freezing cold water, barely a step above actually frozen - takes away all of the warmth of the fire. He shakes his head to get rid of the worst of the drops and grimaces again as water drips down his neck. 

‘Really Gabriel, a hand in the water would’ve been enough proof,’ he snaps, trying to brush the worst of the water off his coat. ‘Now we’re both soaked.’

Crowley starts to laugh, a sound that has Aziraphale looking up from the damage to his clothing. Crowley is halfway out of the tub but he’s staring at -

At Gabriel. Who looks well, looks exactly like he did on Armageddon, when Adam refused to start the war and Aziraphale had pointed out the difference between ‘Great’ and ‘Ineffable’.

It’s actually a pretty funny face. Aziraphale bites at his lips to stop himself laughing as he moves to Crowley’s side. The moment he’s close enough, Crowley pulls him into a hug which lasts a lot longer than Aziraphale would normally be comfortable with with this many people looking. But for once… well it’s Crowley who is the first to move away, though he leaves one arm over Aziraphale’s shoulders.

‘You alright my dear?’ Aziraphale says, biting at his lip. He glances at Gabriel before darting up and placing a soft kiss to Crowley’s cheek. Which goes red, though Crowley doesn’t otherwise react. There are gasps from the crowd but muted, as if the people gasping don’t have enough voice left to make any noise louder than a whisper.

‘Perfect,’ Crowley hisses, before looking out at the almost silent crowd of gapping angels and demons. 

‘Final warning,’ he says, his voice a rumbling threat. ‘We are to be left _alone_ or you’ll ssssee what an angel and demon immune to all forms of destruction can _do_.’

It takes a moment for Beelzebub to nod but nod they do. Gabriel shakes his head until Crowley clicks his fingers, setting the arm on Aziraphale’s shoulders alight with Hellfire.

Which makes Aziraphale shift in place. It _tickles_. He leans back into the fire anyway, desperate to get some of the feeling back into his chilled skin.

‘Agreed,’ Gabriel says in a defeated whisper.

Crowley nods, then slips his arm off Aziraphale’s shoulder to take his hand. Staring down the crowd of angels and demons, they snap their fingers together.

The next breath they take is in the bookshop.

One breath is all Aziraphale gets before Crowley uses the grip he has on Aziraphale’s hand to spin him around to face Crowley and kisses him. A long kiss. A desperate kiss.

One that Aziraphale is not at all eager to break. He kisses back with as much desperation as Crowley, meeting every movement of his with a wave of love that flows through them both, passed from one to the other until it cannot be recognised as having started with either.

Finally after what could have been eons or merely moments, Crowley pulls back. Not far though, as he rests his forehead on Aziraphale’s forehead and Aziraphale blinks as he tries to focus on the face far too close to his own.

‘I thought you were _burning_ ,’ Crowley whispers and Aziraphale has to close his eyes.

‘I thought _you_ were drowning,’ he replies and Crowley kisses him again. Aziraphale slips his hand up so it is resting on Crowley’s chest, right over his heart. 

A moment later it starts to pound at a human pace and Aziraphale feels a smile twitching at his lips. ‘You always do forget that.’

‘Snakes are slower,’ Crowley says and the familiar teasing pulls Aziraphale’s twitches into a proper smile. ‘Do… do you know why we survived?’

‘I… I have theories.’ With a massive force of will, more than he thought he had in him, Aziraphale moves his head away from Crowley’s. He needs to let go completely, to check his books, but some part of him shies away at the mere thought. No, he’ll hold on a little longer - a week sounds like enough time.

‘Theories?’

‘Ideas. Possibilities… Well. A couple. A few. Maybe two.’

Crowley smiles, a soft one. ‘And they are?’

Aziraphale uses the hand not on Crowley’s heart to reach for his left hand, running his fingers along the ring there. ‘And they shall become one flesh,’ he recites before grimacing. ‘Though we left rather a lot out of the ceremony…’

‘The church for one,’ Crowley snarks. But then he sighs and squeezes Aziraphale’s hand. ‘I swore before God you are mine, that theory could be,’ he bites his lip and makes a face, ‘valid. What’s the other one?’

‘Ah. Umm… Ineffability?’

Crowley groans, exaggerated and loud as he takes a step back without letting go of Aziraphale’s hand. ‘Right, theory one it is.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with ineffability!’ Aziraphale says swallowing the smile that wants to take over his face. ‘In fact, both theories could be said to be ineffability at wor-’

Crowley cuts him off with a kiss, which Aziraphale doesn’t protest.

After all they have all eternity to figure this out now.

[Commissioned Art by Whiteley Foster](https://www.instagram.com/whiteleyfoster/?hl=en)


End file.
